


Can't Smile Without You

by The_Two_Monkeys



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Music, Spoilers, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-26 21:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Two_Monkeys/pseuds/The_Two_Monkeys
Summary: What if Arthur Fleck wasn't constantly being disappointed and kicked around, what if he finds someone who is just as broken as he is, and what if - well, what if he experienced trust, love and devotion?Following the main events of the movie, so be aware of spoilers.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	1. Put On A Happy Face

**Author's Note:**

> I made a playlist for you on spotify with some additional songs, enjoy: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31TWF96RLrg4IYFzBAT7j5?si=JhZDJqzkTSCKOkhb9hmYZA  
Joker is an extraordinary movie, and I love Joaquin Phoenix's performance. Although I like the Joker as a villain, I just imagined what would've happened if Arthur hadn't been treated so shitty, because I think he's lovely.

_Pick out a pleasant outlook_   
_Stick out that noble chin_   
_Wipe off that full-of-doubt look_   
_Slap on a happy grin_

_And spread sunshine all over the place_   
_And put on a happy face_

_Tony Bennett - Put On A Happy Face  
_

* * *

  
"Is it just me, or is it getting crazier out there?"  
Arthur’s voice was too loud in his own ears, echoing from the walls in the crammed office he sat in. No matter at what time he came to these appointments, it always seemed to be dark and depressing inside. The irony made him want to chuckle, but he suppressed the urge and took a drag from his cigarette instead.

His social worker looked up from his file and pursed her lips before she answered: "It is certainly tense. People are upset, they’re struggling, looking for work. These are tough times."  
_Sure, tell me about it_, he thought. His left leg was bouncing nervously, and he had to still it with his hand.

She held his gaze through the smoke he exhaled, and then asked: "How about you? Have you been keeping up with your journal?"  
He nodded obediently. "Yes, Ma’am."  
"Great." The smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Did you bring it with you?"  
Pressing the cigarette between his lips, he shuffled in his seat and fished the wrinkled notebook out of his jacket, placing it in front of her. He didn’t miss the way she lifted one eyebrow at the miserable state of the paper, all dog ears and coffee stains.  
Her forehead creasing into a frown as she scanned through the pages, taking it between two fingers.

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I’ve been using it as a journal, but also as a joke diary, if I have any thoughts or frustrations." She didn’t look up, barely reading the notes in front of her.  
"I think I told you, I’m pursuing a career in stand-up comedy."  
The words came with more confidence than he really felt, and he crossed his legs trying to get himself in a more nonchalant posture. He had made a request at Pogo’s Comedy Club and was just waiting for them to answer.  
"No, you didn’t," she murmured, still busy with turning the pages.  
His jaw clenched, and he felt the cheap filling in one of his molars cracking. "Yes I did."

When she finally lifted her eyes to look at him, he remembered himself to smile politely, the corners of his mouth twitching.  
After another moment of silence where she sized him up as if the answer to all of his problems lay hidden behind his skin, she finally asked: "How does it feel to have to come here? Does it help to have someone to talk to?"  
It wasn’t difficult to answer this question. "I think I felt better when I was locked up in hospital."

He took another drag from his cigarette and averted his eyes, painfully aware that this wasn’t what she wanted to hear from him, but it was true. Somehow he had felt strangely safe in Arkham, shut away from the world and its troubles, just his daily routines and his own world he made up in his mind. It had been easy, no obligations, no interactions except for the doctor’s visits. Yes, he would dare to say that he was kind of happy there. At least as far as that feeling could go for him.  
Since he had been released, things had gotten worse. The world outside scared and overstrained him, he wasn’t used to the hecticness and non-binding nature of it anymore. He just never seemed to meet the expectations of other people, feeling insecure as how to behave around them and therefore constantly failing.

When he looked up again, he found the lady staring at him with a strange expression, a mixture of pity and frustration. Gulping nervously, he tried to brush off his unexpected confession and said: "I was wondering if you could ask the doctor to increase my medication."  
_Shit, he shouldn’t have said that._ He could tell from the way her shoulders tensed and her frown deepened, even before she answered him.  
"Arthur, you’re on seven different medications. Surely they must be doing something?"

Oh they did. The pills made it hard for him to sleep and cut off his appetite, causing him to lose even more weight. But his laughing episodes had increased lately, and he found it more and more difficult to suppress them.  
However, they did little to lighten up his spirits, to stifle his cries in the night when his mother was fast asleep, or to simply take the leaden weight off his chest. Sometimes he would swallow half a container and they wouldn’t do anything at all.  
There was nothing he could do to make the pain go away, even just to numb it.  
"I just don’t want to feel so bad anymore," he nearly whispered.

The sessions never took more than 30 minutes, although Arthur was sure that there were 60 minutes noted on the referral from his doctor. But the times were hard, and Gotham had cut down the budget for welfare institutions, so the social workers had to deal with more patients in less time.

After he had left the gray concrete building, he made his way to the bus and leaned his head at the window, watching nameless people walking by. It was late afternoon, and the bus quickly was filled with tired looking people coming from their work. In front of him a mother took a seat with her son, maybe 7 or 8 years old. The boy was soon bored by the monotony of the driving and became restless. Trying to distract himself, his small fingers inspected the latch of the window, and he painted shapes on the fogged glass. Arthur watched him fondly when he suddenly turned around in his seat, his big eyes curiously meeting his.  
He smiled, and with all the impartiality only children could possess, the boy smiled back. A wonderful, genuine, tooth-lacking smile.  
Encouraged by his reaction, Arthur began to play peek-a-boo with him, and he giggled. That was, until his mother turned around and looked at him in disgust, protectively wrapping her arms around her son.  
"Would you stop bothering my kid?" she scolded him, as if he was a pervert.  
Arthur lifted his hand in defeat, shaking his head wildly. "I wasn’t bothering him, I was-"  
"Just stop!"

And then he felt that nasty itch in his throat again.  
_Not now, please._  
But he couldn’t stop it. His mouth opened without his will, and a shrill cackling sound escaped him. He tried to cover his lips with his hands, but it was too late. The sound pressed its way up his lungs, and he felt like throwing up.  
Fighting for air, he could only watch when the woman shot him an angry glance. "What, you think that’s funny?"  
Arthur shook his head again and fidgeted with his pockets, desperately trying to find the little card inside. When he finally got it, he handed it over and the lady took it hesitantly. She quickly read the few lines that were printed in small writing:  
  
_Forgive my laughter. I have a condition (more on back)_  
She squinted her eyes and turned it to look at it more closely.  
_It’s a medical condition causing sudden, uncontrollable laughter that doesn’t match how I feel. It can happen in people with a brain injury or certain neurological conditions._  
Her face remained grim but she seemed to buy it, giving the card back to him. Without sparing him any further interest she turned around, and Arthur was left alone with his attack, his shoulders tensed and his eyes burning. It was always the same.

He got out of the bus two stations earlier, ducking his head wishing he could somehow magically disappear. But of course, no higher force granted him this wish.  
After stopping by at a pharmacy to get his medication, he walked home in the fading light of the day.  
  


* * *

  
_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Breathe in, breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. And again._  
Mia tried to focus on nothing but her breathing and counting, fighting down the cold rush of anxiety that had grabbed her spine. Her hands cramped over the keyboard of her typewriter, and she squeezed her eyes shut.  
One by one, she relaxed her fingers and brought them back to the letters, slowly pressing them down.  
When she almost got a hold of herself again, she heard a sneering voice bark through the office. "I need that fucking report this very day!"  
She exhaled shakily, wetting her lips before she answered: "Yes, Sir, it’s almost finished!"

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7._  
God, she hated this job. It was about three months that she had started working here, but she already could tell that it was horrible. With a metallic _click_ the words imprinted on the paper, even if she didn’t really care what exactly she was writing. Being a secretary for a small insurance company didn’t pay off as well as she had hoped, and worst of all she was at mercy of her hot-tempered boss. Working extra hours every day without getting more money on her paycheck should’ve made her protest, but one word from him left no room for contradiction.  
As if it wasn’t enough that the work bored her, she also very soon recognized that the expensive monthly rates of the insurances they sold were nothing but a joke. The people could hardly afford them from their sparse salary, and whenever they wanted to make use of it, her boss always found a hidden paragraph that made it impossible for them to get the money.

It was nothing but a criminal business, and she felt ashamed that she worked for somebody like him.  
But did she really have a choice? There were bills to pay at least, and she needed something to live on.  
Finally she managed to pull off the last sentence of her report and sorted the papers in a file, trying not to think about the person who was being scammed today. It was Friday, at least.  
Clearing her desk, she grabbed her purse and took a deep breath, heading to the office where her boss was already waiting for her. He shot her an irritated glance and ripped the papers off her hand. "Was about time. Don’t expect me to pay you for the extra hours you needed for this!" he spat, and she nodded, averting her gaze.  
"No, Sir. Goodbye."

Before he could give her any more work to choke on, she hurried to leave and made her way back home. It was cold outside, the clouds bulging up heavy in the leaden sky, and it was only a matter of time when the rain would come. The air smelled foul and etching, the garbage strike in Gotham was still continuing.  
Careful not to step into the large puddles of water, Mia wrapped her scarf around her chin, avoiding to look at other pedestrians. Gotham was a meltpot of crime, and lately it had gotten worse. The newspapers were filled with shootings, robberies and riots, everybody was going crazy.  
But she couldn’t blame them. The upper crust was getting even more rich, while normal people struggled to keep their jobs. It was insane.  
And unfair.

Mia brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face and took out a pack of cigarettes, stopping shortly to light one up. After a deep drag that burned her lungs, she felt the comfortable rush of nicotine floating her veins, and she instantly felt better. She was well aware that smoking wasn’t healthy, but it helped to calm her tensed nerves. And besides, what was the alternative? She had tried prescribed medication before, but they had only made her dizzy and caused strange dreams, so she quickly had stopped taking them.  
No, she believed that cigarettes and wine were better than drugs, legal or illegal.

She took the subway and stopped by a grocery store to buy something for dinner before she went to the building where she lived, feeling relieved to be home soon. It wasn’t a great place at all, the house clearly needed some renovation, but it was hers. Her own personal spot.  
The only thing that bothered her was the unreliable elevator. You never knew if it would work or suddenly got stuck, which had caused her to be late for work on several occasions making her boss fume with anger.  
So when she got inside and saw the doors of the cursed thing close, Mia ran forward and called: "No, please! Stop the doors!"  
A hand shot out and pushed the buttons on the control panel, and with a sickening _screech_ they slid back open.

Slightly out of breath she stepped inside and saw a man standing awkwardly in the corner. He was living on her floor with whom she supposed was his mother, but she hardly ever saw her. There had been one morning when she went to work that she had seen the elderly lady at the door, but she hadn’t noticed Mia.

He was tall, taller than her at least, his long arms and legs looking lanky. His wavy, dark brown hair sat on his shoulders, matching the color of his jacket. It was hard to tell how old he might be, since his clothes looked a little old-fashioned.  
Whenever she came across him he was always polite and quiet, not one of those arrogant cat-calling assholes.

"Thank you," she sighed and gave him a shy smile, a little embarrassed by her outburst. It wasn’t as if taking the stairs had killed her.  
He curled his lips into a lopsided smile. "You’re welcome," he nodded, and the doors closed again.  
The lights started to flicker when the machine was going up, and Mia chewed on her lips while staring at the broken tiles on the floor. She always felt uncomfortable near other people, and somehow she thought that the guy next to her was experiencing the same.  
With a sudden rumble the elevator stopped, and she groaned. _Wonderful_.  
"This thing is really a nuisance, isn’t it?" she said, rolling her eyes. It was just meant to fill the silence between them, but when she heard him chuckle softly, she dared to look at him again.

"It is."  
He still looked at her with that disarming smile, and she allowed herself to study his features for a moment.  
His thick, dark eyebrows framed a pair of unusual bright eyes, crinkling at the corners. A scar sat between his nose and his upper lip, disturbing the otherwise neatly shaved, pale skin.  
He wasn’t what most people probably considered an overly attractive man, but she didn’t care. To her, he was handsome in an unconventional way.

Before she could say anything else, the elevator rattled and continued its way up, and she dropped her gaze again. When they finally arrived, she stepped outside and wanted to lift a hand to say goodbye, but then she suddenly lost hold of her plastic bag and the groceries tumbled on the floor. She cursed softly and hurried to pick them up again, when her fingers grazed his. He helped her gathering the few items and she mumbled her thanks, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks.  
"Sorry, I’m clumsy."  
"That’s okay," he simply said, and handed her an apple that had rolled away. She took it, blushing even harder at the accidental touch of his hand.

"Thanks again and good night," she said, somehow thinking that this little incident was the best thing that had happened to her today.  
He nodded, still smiling. "Good night."


	2. When You're Smiling

_When you're smiling_   
_The whole world smiles with you_   
_When you're laughing_   
_The sun comes shining through_

_But when you're crying_   
_You bring on the rain_   
_So stop your sighing_   
_Be happy again_   
_Keep on smiling_   
_'Cause when you're smiling_   
_The whole world smiles with you_

_Dean Martin - When You're Smiling  
_

* * *

__  
The worst part of having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.  
His scripture was spidery, as if a child had written the sentence in his journal. He grew up as a lefty, but had been forced to use the other one at school. Somehow he liked to use his left hand now, feeling deliciously disobedient. He wasn’t supposed to disobey, and everybody made that clear to him.  
He had to behave, act normal, just as everybody else.  
But deep down inside Arthur felt that he wasn’t like everybody else.

He sat hunched over the notebook at his desk, a cigarette smoking itself in the ashtray next to him. His mother was already in bed, they had watched the Murray Franklin Show on TV together.  
Oh, he _loved_ Murray, it was his favorite show ever! He was just to casual and funny at the same time, Arthur wished he could be in his show for once in his life. Sometimes he imagined what it would be like, to stand in front of Murray, to shake his hand. Would he like him? Surely they would get along, two comedians talking together. The older man could show him some of his tricks, teach him about show business, like a father.  
_A father he never had._

Scribbling some nonsense until his pencil was all worn out, Arthur thought about his encounter with the girl in the elevator. They were practically neighbors: she had moved in a few months ago three doors down, he had seen her occasionally.  
She had always been alone, never in company of a man. He wondered what she was doing for work.  
Her brown hair was curly and short, emphasizing her bright green eyes and ivory skin. She was pretty.

Caught up in a daydream, he remembered the way she had smiled at him, and his chest filled with a warm, nice feeling. He wouldn’t mind seeing that smile every day.  
Suddenly, he felt that nervousness winding up inside again, so he quickly turned on the TV to distract him. He found an old movie with Fred Astaire and decided to watch it, hoping that it might help him to sleep a bit. Making himself comfortable on the couch, he took another cigarette and enjoyed the dancing scenes between Rogers and Astaire. He just had a sweet spot for those classics.

Sleep came eventually, even if it wasn’t very restful. It was Saturday morning and his mother was still sleeping when he woke up, so he decided to get up and do the laundry to distract himself. Sometimes the walls of the small, cheap apartment they lived in seemed to come closer, and he felt the urge to get out as soon as possible.  
He grabbed the hamper and made his way down to the basement, using the stairs for a change. The air was warm and humid down there, litter covering the corners of the dark rooms. It was the perfect time to go down since most of the residents were still sleeping, so Arthur was in a relaxed mood when he entered the laundromat. With a cigarette hanging from his lips he was humming a melody from the movie he had watched last night, looking forward to a little privacy. Although he loved his mother, it wasn’t always easy to live under one roof with her, no chance to be for himself.

He suddenly halted in his tracks when he heard the tumbling sound of a washing machine. Turning around he froze for a moment: sitting on one of the cheap plastic chairs was the girl from the elevator, looking at him with surprise.  
_Oh._  
"Oh, I... I’m sorry, I didn’t..." he stuttered, already regretting his choice of words, dropping his gaze.  
"Hi." He looked up and found her smiling at him sheepishly, a cute pink blush lighting up her cheeks.  
Holding the hamper with one hand, he took the cigarette from his mouth and replied: "Hi."

She fidgeted with her hands in her lap, and Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say to her. The silence stretched on until she finally broke it: "Long time no see?"  
It caused him to bark a laugh at that, and he saw her relax a little at his reaction.  
"I didn’t expect anybody to be here this early," he answered, and when her eyes widened he hurried to add: "Not that I mind, though."  
The girl chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear. She was wearing jeans and a plain black shirt now, different from the clothes she wore to work.  
"Well, I brought some coffee with me, so... if you like?" Next to her was a jug standing on a table with some plastic cups. "The vending machine is always broken, so I bring my own," she explained.

_Smart girl._  
He nodded and put down the hamper. "Yes, I’d love some coffee." She beamed at him and turned around to fill a cup, handing it to him carefully. He felt too exposed standing in the middle of the room, so he took a seat in front of her, resting his forearms on his legs and nipping at the still warm liquid.  
When he dared to look at her again, he saw her eyes fixed on his cigarette and moved to put it out. "Sorry, it’s just a bad habit..."  
"Oh, no! No, it’s okay, I’m a smoker myself I just..." There was this little nervous laughter again. "I just forgot to bring them with me."  
She scrubbed her face with her hands, and when she opened her eyes again he was holding his package out for her. She took one and he lit it up for her, feeling a little light-headed at the sudden proximity when she leaned forward.  
"Thank you, I’ll help you out next time," she said after taking a deep drag, and he had to stop himself from staring at her lips.

Clearing his throat, he shrugged, happy that he could offer her something. "You bring the coffee and I bring the cigarettes, I’d say we’d be a perfect team."  
"We sure are," she chuckled.  
Then her hand was outstretched towards him. His eyes flew between hers and her hand, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. "It’s Mia," she said, and he managed to get out of his stupor and take it.  
_Mia. What a beautiful name._  
It felt so small and soft in his that he feared to break it if he squeezed too hard.  
"Arthur," he said, earning another smile.  
Although he didn’t want to, he let go eventually, still feeling a pleasant tingling on his palm.

They sat together, drinking coffee and smoking for a while, but Arthur wanted to continue their conversation and feverishly tried to think of something to say.  
"So, ah... what are you doing?" he asked, hoping that this was a safe question to ask.  
She lifted one eyebrow and smirked at his question. "Doing the laundry?" she replied, and he giggled. He liked her sense of humor.  
"I’m working as a secretary for Miller’s Insurance," she said, and her face fell a little at that. He could tell that she wasn’t quite happy with her job, although it sounded very important to him.  
"Oh," was all he could utter, and he scolded himself inwardly for this lame comment. "I mean, that’s great!"

This time her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and he regretted bringing the topic up. "It’s okay, at least I get some money for it. But I wouldn’t do it if I have to."  
"What would you like to do?" He was truly interested to find out what she liked. She squirmed a little in her seat, watching him warily as if she was afraid to tell him. Did he make her feel uncomfortable?  
"Well... I always wanted to become a writer," she finally admitted, and his eyebrows flew up. "Wow! That’s awesome!"  
Mia eyed him suspiciously, waiting for any sign of sarcasm, but his excitement was genuine. "Yeah, uhm, I had started saving some money for college, but... it didn’t work out, so..." She made a noncommittal gesture and poured herself another cup of coffee. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it.

"And what about you?" she asked, and he braced himself for the answer.  
He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady: "I’m working at Ha-Ha’s as a clown, but I’m starting a career at stand-up comedy."  
"Really?" She leaned slightly forward to him. "Where do you currently work?"  
He took a drag from his cigarette before he answered: "There's a selling out down at Kenny's Music, I'm doing some promotion there."  
"So, people can hire you for their birthday party and things like that?" she asked.  
He nodded, still waiting for her judgement.  
A soft expression warmed her face when she said: "That sounds wonderful. Having a job where you’re making other people happy... that’s really nice, Arthur."  
He shivered when she said his name, the little hairs on his arms standing up.

Rubbing his neck, he tried to play it cool, overwhelmed by such a positive response.  
"You know, I’m performing at Pogo’s Comedy Club in a few weeks, so maybe you wanna come and see?"  
There was that smile again. "I’d love to."  
  


* * *

  
Mia hardly ever slept in at the weekend, even though she stayed in bed longer than necessary. She usually spent her time with reading before she got up to make breakfast, only to settle down on the couch afterwards.  
Although she enjoyed her work free days, they were mostly the same: she was reading, writing, watching TV and doing her household chores.  
She didn’t feel the need to go out dancing or having a drink at a bar, besides being alone made it riskier to do so. And what would it do good for her anyway? She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, the last two and only candidates had been far too disappointing. Plus, huge crowds scared her, and she usually wasn’t the one to start a conversation.

Moving from Metropolis to Gotham she had left behind the only friends she had known from school, and there was no family she could visit.  
So she decided to do the laundry on this average Saturday, trying to kill time. While she set up some coffee, she thought about the last night and her neighbor. He really was different, not like any other guy she had ever met. She wondered what he was doing, and if he had a girlfriend he would visit on the weekends since he could hardly invite them to his place where his mother lived.  
Still in thought she took the hamper and the jug and made her way to the basement, recognizing that she hadn’t brought a book or her cigarettes when she arrived.

Mia sighed. _What a great way to start the day._  
After she put her clothes in one of the washing machines she sat down to nurse a cup of coffee, when she suddenly heard someone coming down the stairs.  
Instinctively stiffening in her seat, she cursed silently, hoping that it wasn’t one of the not so nice neighbors of which she had met plenty yet. The steps came closer, and she could hear the person humming softly. It was nobody else than the guy she had met last night, looking at her like a deer caught in the headlights.  
It was almost funny.  
He was wearing gray sweatpants and a blue hoodie, the wide clothes emphasizing how skinny he was.

After a few moments of shy awkwardness, the two of them had brought up a decent conversation about their jobs and interests, trading coffee and cigarettes while attending on their laundry. Never had she thought that Arthur was such an entertainer, but still waters run deep as they say. He humored her with stories from his job as a clown, and practiced some jokes with her.  
Sometimes he was laughing a little too loud and was obviously embarrassed about it, but she didn’t mind. He was so very self-conscious, and she appreciated his attempts in behaving acceptable in front of her.

They found out that they both liked old black-and-white movies and swing music, discussing their favorite actors and singers.  
It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, maybe because she sensed his nervousness mirroring her own from time to time. But they quickly developed a natural-feeling talk, and Mia was almost a little sad when the dryer signal told her that the time was up.

Folding the last piece of clothing, she turned around to say goodbye, finding him rubbing his hands undecidedly as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.  
A part of her wanted him to ask her out, wanted to see him again so their blooming relationship wouldn’t wither due to their insecurity.  
"So... it was nice to meet you, Mia," he said inaptly, stuttering a little. "I mean, we didn’t plan to, but - it was still nice, that ’s what I wanted to say."  
She feverishly tried to think of an answer, but all she could muster was: "Yeah, me too. It was really nice to talk to you."  
He nodded, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, and pointed his chin towards the nearly empty jug in her hand. "And thanks for the coffee."

"Oh, not at all! Remind me to pay you back for the cigarettes though." But he just waved his hand as if it was nothing, and before her courage left her, she asked: "Do you know the café at the corner on the 3rd?"  
His head flew up, and she felt her heart beating in her throat. "Sure."  
She wettened her lips, her fingers cramping around the hamper. "We could have a coffee there sometime."  
Arthur blinked at her as if he had seen a ghost, and didn’t answer immediately.

_Dammit, that was too fast._  
Mia shrugged as if she didn’t care, but then a smile slowly tucked at the corners of his mouth. It really suited him.  
"Yes, that... yes. Monday’s my day off, so... let’s say at 5?"  
"Sounds great! See you Monday then, I’m looking forward to it."  
She rushed past him, unable to slow her steps in case he was changing his mind. When she was already at the stairs she heard him call: "Me too!" and couldn’t fight a stupid smirk all over her face.

How... unexpected. She had hardly ever talked to him yesterday, and now she was having coffee with him two days from now. But wasn’t that how things usually worked between people? She didn’t know nor care, for now Mia just wanted to savor the nice and warm feeling Arthur stirred in her belly, regardless how this was going to turn out. She liked him, and telling from how he looked at her and talked to her, he liked her too. That was enough for now.

The rest of her weekend was filled with a certain lightness that she had lacked for a very long time. Rummaging between her old records, she put on some of her favorite artists to accompany her while she cleaned her flat. She didn’t mind if anybody heard her singing to Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin, it was just so relieving to feel happy again, that she wanted to make most of the moment.


	3. Make Someone Happy

_It's so important to_   
_Make someone happy_   
_Make just one someone happy_   
_Make just one heart the heart you sing to_   
_One smile that cheers you_   
_One face that lights when it nears you_   
_One girl you're ev'rything to_

_Make someone happy_   
_Make just one someone happy_   
_And you will be happy, too._

_Jimmy Durante - Make Someone Happy_   
_   
_

* * *

  
Mia was long gone, but he was still staring at the spot where she had stood a few minutes ago. The way she was looking at him, as if he was... _special_. As if he was worth her time.  
Never had a girl asked him out before. It wasn't actually a date, it was just a coffee between neighbors, but still. Any interaction with another person than his mother was rare, and this one came totally out of the blue.  
When he had finished the laundry, he made his way back up to the flat, replaying his conversation with Mia over and over in his mind, trying to identify if he had said something weird or inappropriate.

Back in the apartment his mother was already awake, fixing a little breakfast for them.  
"Oh, Happy! There you are, I was wondering where you 'been," she cheered when he came inside, and he wiggled the hamper. "I was just doing some laundry, Mom."  
She gave him a smooch when he went to sort the clothes away. "Thank you, you're such a good boy. Come and eat something when you're finished."

They sat together and watched some TV, but Arthur picked at his food only halfheartedly. After a while he lit another cigarette and stared at a cooking show his mother loved to watch, although she would never try one of the fancy recipes. He didn't really listen, completely in his thoughts.  
Thinking about Mia, he wondered what she was doing right now. How did she usually spend her weekends? Surely she had some friends she could visit, or some co-workers to have dinner with.

"Mom," he asked, flicking a flake of ash away that was sitting on his knee. She hummed, her eyes glued to the screen.  
"Did you ever meet the girl that moved to the apartment three doors down?"  
Penny could hardly leave on her own, but she insisted on checking the mail box at least twice a day, still waiting for a letter from Thomas Wayne. He didn't count how many letters she had written to him by now, always telling about the good old days when she used to work for him, convinced that he would somehow remember and maybe help her out of this shithole. But there was never anything other than bills in the mail, and everyday she would be disappointed.

"Mom?" he repeated when she didn't answer. He turned his head to look at her, her forehead creased into a deep frown.  
"Three doors down?" she asked. "Happy, the apartment has been vacant for months now."  
Arthur sighed. Well, Mia wasn't living here for that long, maybe his mother just hadn't met her yet. That wasn't unusual.  
He decided to leave her be and just let the weekend pass by as every other.

Later in the evening he was helping his mother with a bath, gently scrubbing her scalp. She was incessantly babbling about the _oh-so-great_ Thomas Wayne and how he could help them out. By the time he had grown tired of those stories, but he didn't want to affront Penny by saying it.  
"I don’t want you to worry about money, Mom. I mean, everybody’s telling me that my stand-up’s ready for the big clubs."  
She craned her wrinkled neck to look at him, her wet hair stuck to her head. "But what makes you think you could do that?" she said, watching him wryly.  
He froze at that question, gripping the rim of the tub tighter. "What do you mean?"  
She sighed, dropping her gaze to the slowly chilling water. "I mean, don’t you have to be funny to be a comedian?"

Arthur forced himself to smile, like he always did. Even when he was feeling sad, angry or scared.  
"You told me I was put here to spread joy and laughter, Mom. Remember?"  
A tender expression softened her features, and she lifted a wet hand to caress his cheek. "Oh, my precious boy. Never forget to put on a happy face, right?"  
_Yes. Always._  
He nodded and playfully splashed some water over her that made her laugh. After he had dried her weak, old body he put her to bed, and went to the living room to cry.

His days were bleak and always the same, he couldn't even remember what he had done two weeks ago. Perhaps just the same usual shit as he always did.  
Sunday evening he was sitting alone at his table, scribbling his thoughts into the journal. Mia just wouldn't get out of his mind. The more he thought about her, a greedy, hot feeling gnawed at his guts, making him blind and deaf for any logical thought. He needed to see her again, as soon as possible.  
Arthur didn't sleep that night.

When the dim light of the morning crept through the windows, he made a decision. Following an undeniable impulse, he grabbed his beige hooded jacket and waited in the shadows of the entrance for her. Nobody noticed him there. _He was always invisible._

She eventually walked out of the building, and he followed on her heels, careful to keep a safe distance in case she would suddenly turn around. Adrenaline flooded his system, he knew that what he did was wrong. _Creepy_.

If she found out, she would think he was a stalker and maybe report him to the police. But he just couldn't resist, it felt too good to see her slender frame walking between all those people he was indifferent to. It was easy for him to follow her: she stood out of the crowd like a white raven to him, his eyes drinking in every little gesture. The way she held her cigarette, how she pulled up her shoulders to protect her from the sharp wind.

Way too soon she arrived at her office, and he could swear her steps slowed down a little, as if she was reluctant to finally step inside. Leaning against the wall of the opposite building, he smoked and waited just a little longer, but she was gone. Swallowed by whatever obligations held her inside.  
Forcing himself to leave, he went to work as usual, mixed emotions fighting in his heart. Naturally, he felt bad because he knew he shouldn't have done that. He mustn't do it again.  
And then there was this other feeling, a tingling kind of excitement that made him giggle, causing the people around him to stare. But he didn't mind.

_This could be his little secret, nobody had to know. _   
  


* * *

  
Monday had stretched on forever, and Mia wished that it was over as soon as it began. Her boss was in a horrible mood as always, screaming around and giving her all the dirty work that he didn't want to do.  
But she got her prospect of spending the evening with Arthur. So she hurried to get out of the office to be on time, buying an extra pack of cigarettes on her way to the café.  
Arthur was already waiting for her outside, and she instinctively smiled when she saw him.

"Hi," she said a little breathless when she stood in front of him.  
He looked away for a brief moment, as if it was difficult for him to hold her gaze. "Hi."  
She thumbed over her shoulder and asked: "Shall we go inside?" He nodded, and they took a seat near the window, ordering some coffee.

He was fidgeting with his hands again, a habit he seemed to have when he was nervous. Mia liked it. It made her feel less anxious around him.  
Before he was getting more uncomfortable, she drew out her pack of cigarettes and placed it on the table between them. He looked at it and then at her again, evidently confused.  
"That's for Saturday. Be my guest," she explained, and he breathed a laughter at that, thankful to take one and busy his hands.

After a few drags and when their beverages had been served, he asked: "So, how was your day?"  
Mia took a sip of her cup and shrugged. "It was okay. I mean, it’s never actually good, but I’ve had worse I guess."  
He didn’t know what to say about that, so she decided to keep going. "My boss if a full-grown asshole, you know." Arthur snorted and almost spilled his coffee at that. She chuckled.  
"No, I’m serious! He’s always moody and shouting, I think I’v never seen him smile."  
"That’s too bad," Arthur said, furrowing his thick brows. "He really shouldn’t do that."  
She sighed and rubbed her sore neck, slowly relaxing in her seat. "Some people just unleash their fury on others, it can’t be helped. That’s life."

Arthur suddenly started laughing, and Mia felt pleased with herself.  
"That’s what Murray always says," he uttered between his chuckles.  
"Murray?"  
"Yeah, Murray Franklin. You know his show?"  
"Oh, sure." She had seen it on TV a few times, but it wasn’t her cup of tea. He always was a little above everything, and she couldn’t relate with that.

"I love his show, I always watch it with my mom." He seemed a little embarrassed saying that, but Mia didn’t want him to feel bad about it.  
"I think it’s great that you care for your mother, Arthur. She sure is lucky to have a son like you looking after her now that she’s a senior."  
He lifted his gaze at her, searching her eyes. Trying to find out if she said the truth, she realized.  
"I’ve been the man of the house for as long as I can remember." The words were softly spoken, almost a whisper.

_What if she would reach over the table to take his hand?_  
Mia quickly dismissed the thought, and instead said: "She must love you very much."  
There was the lopsided smile again. "She does. What about your family?"

She cleared her throat. Of course he would ask that. "My parents died a few years ago, but.. I didn’t get to see them very often."  
"Oh." The concern in his eyes warmed her heart. "I’m sorry about that."  
"It’s okay, really. We were never really close... they always thought I got my head in the clouds with the writing and stuff." His eyes lit up at that, and he blinked rapidly. How was a man supposed to have such long, full lashes?

"What do you write?" he asked, and she dropped her gaze, suddenly shy. Her fingers wandered to the condiment holder and took a sugar sachet, even though she never took sugar in her coffee.  
"Well... I like fantasy stuff, you know Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and stuff like that. So that’s mostly what I write, but I’m more focused on stories for children."  
If she thought that he was interested before, his face was now beaming with excitement.  
"Wow, that’s... wow. I always liked The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland as a kid. I bet you’re a great author." She blushed.

"How would you know?" she asked bashfully, risking to glance up at him. His smile was warm and reassuring when he answered: "I’m sure you are."  
Not even her parents had offered their unconditional support, and now she was sitting in front of a man she barely knew, feeling as if maybe she wasn’t as bad as she always thought.  
"You know, to me children are... not so easily judging. They’re more open-minded in most cases, I like that," he said, and there was an underlying sadness that made her chest ache.  
"Yeah," she slowly nodded. "I know what you mean. I think that’s why I like writing stories for them, their critique isn’t that harsh."

They kept smiling at each other, and Mia forgot about the sugar in her hands, even about her coffee, when suddenly the waitress came walking over.  
"You two want another cup of coffee?" she asked, and after a short look they just nodded yes.

Time flew by in a rush, and it was long dark outside when they finally got out of the café. They had talked about each and everything, and it was just so... _natural_. It felt right.  
When they arrived at their floor, Mia felt her heart sink at the thought of leaving now. She really enjoyed his presence.  
"That was nice," she said, giving him a smile.  
He looked away quickly. "Yeah..."  
Mia cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I’m leaving you to it now."

_Say somethin_g, she pleaded mentally.

Before she turned around he finally found the courage to speak: "There’s a nice little cinema four blocks away, they play all the old movies. Maybe we could... we could watch a movie together sometime?"  
A weight lifted off her at those words, and she nodded eagerly.  
"Sure, anytime! I usually work until 5, sometimes a little later but... well, you know where I live, right?"  
He chuckled. "Yeah, I do."  
"Good. See you soon, Arthur."

When she went back to her flat, she could feel his gaze on her back watching her, a nice warmth running down her spine.


	4. They All Laughed

_They laughed at me wanting you_   
_Said I was reaching for the moon_   
_But oh, you came through_   
_Now they'll have to change their tune_

_They all said we never could be happy_   
_They laughed at us and how!_   
_But ho, ho, ho!_   
_Who's got the last laugh now?_

_Fred Astaire - They All Laughed_

* * *

  
Their conversation went surprisingly well. _Too well._  
There was this feeling of comfort again, of being with somebody else who actually liked to be with him. But of course they had to leave sooner or later, and even the anticipation of being alone again gnawed at his heart.  
He didn’t want her to leave. But it would be strange if he asked her to stay, so his mind was rambling as to how he could see her again without being creepy.  
Then it suddenly struck him, he placed all his bets on one card - and to his surprise she said yes.

Arthur wasn’t stupid, he knew that he shouldn’t read too much into it.  
But a lonely, dark corner of his heart wished that she could be more than just a neighbor some day.

Pretending to buy some cigarettes later that evening, he went to the cinema to get their current program. On Wednesday "Top Hat" was playing for the evening show, and he wondered if this would be too soon. He didn't want to lose that warm feeling she had given him. Not only was it a welcome change to his dull everyday life, but he felt like she was _actually listening_ to him.  
And that was rare.  
Not even his social worker or his mother was really interested in what he had to say, and although he thought he had gotten used to it, it hurt him. But Mia was - well, she was something else.

So he hurried home after work on Wednesday and spruced up as best as he could, trying to smooth his unruly hair and straighten his clothes, and then he went over to her apartment. He had played the scene in his head over and over again, what he would say to her, imagined how she would react, not wanting to make a mistake under any circumstances. But when he stood in front of her door, he suddenly felt his insecurity creeping up his spine.  
What if she had changed her mind?  
Clenching his hands into fists, he stared at the cheap wood and hesitated. No, he couldn't do it, she was just being nice to him, end of the story.

Turning on his heels, he ducked his head and took a few steps away. _Don't be a coward_, he hissed under his breath, slowly growing angry of himself.  
Why couldn't he just do it? What was the worst thing that could happen?  
_She could say no_, he thought. And although he didn't want to admit it, it _would_ bother him.  
_You won't find out if you don't try._  
He cursed and turned around again, standing at her door once more. Tilting his head a little, he listened closely if he would be able to hear her inside her apartment. Was she even at home?

Before his fear was getting the best of him, he rose his hand and knocked. Was that too soft? Maybe she didn't even hear him.  
Then he heard a rumbling inside, and a muffled voice called: "Coming!" Mia opened and smiled up at him.  
"Hey," she said softly, that adorable blush warming up her cheeks again.  
Like a bloody fool he just stood and stared at her for a moment, blinking as if she could disappear at every moment. She leaned against the frame and shifted her weight, her smile never leaving her lips.  
"I was hoping to see you." The pink turned a little brighter at that, and Arthur found his speech again.  
"Yeah, uhm, I thought - the cinema, you remember?" he asked, and she eagerly shook her head. "They're playing Top Hat tonight, so I thought we could watch it if you like?"

He hadn't even finished his sentence when she rushed back inside and muttered something of getting her coat and her purse.  
Now, _fancy that_. He'd really done it!  
She was back in the blink of an eye, closing the door behind her and locking it, before she turned around to face him again. "Shall we?"

Arthur had never been to the cinema with somebody else before. Partly, because he never knew anybody who was a fan of old movies, but also because he hadn't any friends.  
The movie theater was old and a bit shabby, only few people came to watch movies here. Mia got herself some popcorn and studied the framed posters that were attached to the walls while Arthur got their tickets. They sat down in the ragged, yet comfy red seats and talked a little before the lights went out and the movie started.  
After seeing that one too many times to count, Arthur had a hard time focusing on it and caught himself watching Mia from the corner of his eyes. She seemed to be totally entranced by the picture, her hands digging into the bowl of popcorn, and he really liked the way her lips pursed when she put them into her mouth.

He was sitting so close to her that he could smell a soft and clean scent wavering from her, maybe a shampoo or lotion she used. But Arthur kept an acceptable distance, and made sure he wouldn't occupy the armrest between them.  
It wasn't long until one of his legs started shaking again, and he painfully pinched it with his hand to silence it. If Mia noticed she didn't show it, her eyes glued to the screen. Every now and then she chuckled softly, and there was an almost dreamy expression on her face when Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced.

All too soon the lights switched on again, and the spell was broken. Mia sighed and turned towards him, and for a single, crazy moment Arthur wondered if her lips would taste like sugar and butter.  
"That was nice. Thank you, Arthur." The soft light of the gas lamps made her curls shine like a halo, and gulped nervously.  
"I'm glad you came with me. They've got a lot of other movies, too so... we can do that again."  
Craving for just a slight hope that there would be another time, he felt the knot in his belly untie when she nodded.  
"Yes, I would like that."

* * *

Maybe it had been her imagination, but Mia thought that Arthur somehow was walking a little straighter next to her, his tall frame more relaxed than usual.  
She couldn't remember when she had felt that good lastly, spending the evening with him had been something she hadn’t known she needed. His idea with the cinema was great, it was far from overcrowded and felt like a journey through time.  
When they walked home side by side she imagined what it would feel like to hold his hand right now, but she quickly dumped that ridiculous thought.

They were just talking about movie history in general, when Arthur suddenly laughed next to her, seemingly out of context. His hand shot up to cover his mouth and he squinted his eyes closed, his shoulders shaking violently. Mia smiled a little confused at that, but patiently waited for him to explain what was so funny to him. But soon his laughter developed into something strange, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Like he couldn't help it, he cackled loud and forcefully, both of his hands now tightening around his throat as if he couldn't breathe.

"Arthur? Are you alright?" Mia asked, now worried about his current state. He shook his head, agony and shame written all over his face as he tried to talk, but nothing but his screeching laughter escaped his mouth.  
Something was clearly wrong.  
She stepped closer and touched his upper arm, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Arthur, just try to breath." But he backed away from her as if she had burned him, and her heart sunk at that. He fumbled with his jacked, and she thought that he maybe had an asthma inhaler or something like that, but he processed a small laminated card that he gave to her. Frowning, she took it and read the small scripture on it.  
_Oh._  
She had read about this condition before, but never actually met anybody who was affected by that. When she looked back at him, he seemed miserable and embarrassed, his shoulders hunched forward and his head ducked low as if to protect himself. Mia gathered her courage and stepped closer again, softly rubbing up and down his arms.

"It's okay, really. You know, I... I always count to seven, it helps me." He lifted his gaze a little at that, and she tried to smile and started counting out loud. It took a while, but bit by bit he relaxed and the laughing subsided until he was able to speak again.  
"I'm sorry, I... I can't do anything about it..." he muttered, swallowing heavily. She lowered her head a little to look at him. "I know, I don't mind."  
He frowned as if he didn't believe her, and she felt a nasty cold in her chest thinking about how he had been treated in the past. "People don't understand... they're scared..." he whispered.

"No, they're dumb Arthur, is all."  
Her voice was firm and steady, and she totally meant what she said. People didn't accept what wasn't normal, at least in their perception of _normal_.  
When she noticed that she was still rubbing his arms she pulled away a little, and for whatever spontaneous impulse that got her, she stepped aside and linked her arm with his. "Let's go home."

They were silent on their way, but Mia savored the warmth that radiated from his body and didn't let go until they stepped out of the elevator. Arthur was evidently still uncomfortable with his outburst and avoided her gaze. Fear gripped her when she thought that this would stand between them, that he wouldn't dare to ask her out again.  
He was already turning around to leave when she said: "Arthur?" Her voice sounded shrill and loud in her own ears, and he flinched slightly but turned back to her, a mixture of confusion and expectation in his eyes.  
"Would you have dinner with me? Let's say, Friday?"

He didn't answer immediately, and she hurried to add: "We could grab something for your mom, and then you come over to my place and we watch a movie or something."  
Ever so slowly he nodded, and a small smile tucked at his lips.  
"Great. I really enjoyed tonight, Arthur. Good night."  
"Me too. Good night, Mia."


	5. The Moon Is A Silver Dollar

_The moon is a silver dollar_   
_Shining up in the sky_   
_There's a dream we can buy_   
_Sweetheart You and I_

_The moon is a silver dollar_   
_Made for lovers to share_   
_And with you in my arms_   
_I'm a millionaire_

_Lawrence Welk - The Moon Is A Silver Dollar_   
  


* * *

  
When he had his attack, Arthur wished the ground would open and swallow him up. It had been a wonderful evening so far, and than he had to spoil it.  
Out of every time this happened, the situation with Mia was the worst one, and the one he feared most. But she was gentle with him, there was no dread or disgust in her eyes, only concern and confusion. He could understand that, he would probably be bewildered too.

What did she say again? That she counted to seven and it helped her? He didn't know just what that meant, but maybe she was familiar with stressful situations.  
However, he was thankful that she had taken it so lightly. Never in his life had he hoped that one day he could be just himself and didn't have to pretend to be somebody else. Arthur knew he was different, but he tried so hard to fit in, that it physically hurt. He wanted to be a part of - _something_.

But Mia didn't run away. When she had locked arms with him, he thought he could fly. And on top of that she wanted to see him again just two days from now. That surely was too good to be true.  
He sighed when he unlocked the door and got inside the apartment. "I'm home, Mom," he called, and heard the TV from the bedroom.  
"Where have you been so long?" his mother asked, and he walked over to sit next to her on the bed.  
For some reason he hadn't told her about Mia yet. When they had met on Monday, he said he had to do something for work and went out, and tonight she had been asleep when he left the apartment.

"I went to the cinema," he said, and when she looked at him with surprise he added: "With our neighbor, you know? The girl three doors down."  
"Happy," she said, that look of pity on her face that he despised. He knew she would say something he didn't want to hear.  
"Are you alright? I'm worried about you, you know. You… you talk to yourself sometimes." He gritted his teeth and tried to stay calm, no use in lashing out to an old woman. So he shrugged and chuckled a little, playing it off.  
"Sure, Mom! I don't get to talk to a lot of people, right? That's why I'm talking to myself sometimes, nothing about it."

But her eyes were said, shining with tears, and she opened her mouth to speak. Before she could say anything, she decided to leave it be and patted his hand instead. Why was she doubting him all the time? It bothered him that she of all people was so suspicious in everything he did.  
Was it so unimaginable that he actually met a girl? Did his own mother really think him so _unpleasant_ that he couldn't have a date?  
They said goodnight and he sat brooding over his journal, verbalizing his anger and disappointment.

Well, she would be face-to-face with her on Friday, he thought with grim satisfaction. He only had to get over and done with two more days of work.

Ha-Ha's was full of failed existences, just like himself. There were unsuccessful actors and musicians trying to get their feet back on the ground, people who dreamed of being an artist and ended up as a clown. They constantly battled for the best jobs, there was no camaraderie or collegiality, _charity begins at home._  
Arthur had learned quickly that he shouldn't expect making any friends here, so he just did what he had to do and tried to stay out of the way.

He just sat at the vanity and applied his make up, when Randall came across. The guy was a huge, overweight behemoth, even taller than Arthur. He would never understand how people would agree to have him as a clown, he was frightening enough even without his costume.  
Randall was one of those people who pretended to be your friend if it was useful for them, but he constantly picked at the others.  
"Hey Arthur, " he sneered. "How’s the comedy career? Are you a famous stand-up yet?" A disdainful smirk contorted his features, and Arthur forced himself to smile.  
"Not quite. I’ve just been working on my material," he answered, hoping the bully would leave it at that.  
He snorted. "Well, if you’re on the top you remember your old buddy Randall, won’t you?"  
"Sure, Randall, sure..."

It wasn't that Arthur didn't like his job at all, some engagements were only worse than others. The one he was currently working at for example was thankless, something nobody would remember a year from now. Parties or fairs were his favorite thing: people were happy and in an overall good mood, enjoying themselves. It was easy to cheer them up and they were more likely to give a good tip when the work was done. But best of all was working with children. They possessed an innocence and amazement that reminded him of why he liked being a clown.  
_It was fun._

But he kept growing nervous. Pogo's hadn't answered him yet, it's been two weeks since the interview with their manager. He needed this one chance, only this once so he could really start his career. He was convinced that this would be his stepping stone for becoming famous, for getting out of this shitty life he was living now.  
All his hopes clung to this one thought.  
But patience was hard to endure, he didn't like to wait anymore. Hell, he was waiting all the time, his whole life! He was tired of waiting. Tired of hoping, always _hoping_.

As a kid he imagined being like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, wandering around in a strange country trying to find his way home. He still loved Julie Garland's version of Over The Rainbow.  
Maybe his dreams would come true someday.  
  


* * *

  
It was selfish, but knowing that Arthur had this condition somehow comforted her. Of course it was bad that people bullied him for this, but she could relate to him on so many levels that she didn't feel so bad about herself anymore.  
Arthur was shy and sweet and insecure, and she liked that about him. He seemed to be more sensitive than other people, even if they just saw him as a freak. But wasn't she a freak then, too?

She had think about him nearly all the time when she went to work the next day, not even her shitty boss could spoil her good mood.  
Mia had just finished working on one of those pitiful cases again, another poor family that Miller had bamboozled with his shady contracts. It was a nightmare.  
Now she sat over his own insurances for the company, sorting out the policies and preparing the papers for the accounting. While she was quickly reading them, she suddenly halted and furrowed her brows.  
What was _that_?  
Something about those was _strange_. Following a certain instinct, she grabbed a folder with the papers of the past few years, and with every page she turned, she felt an unnerving cold settling in her belly.

Miller had defrauded them, there was no doubt about it. She felt the well known panic gnawing at her guts again, and her breathing sped up. She tried to count, gripping the table she sat at.  
He couldn't have done it alone, there surely were some beneficiaries in this arrangement. Considering only the years she had discovered yet, there must be hundred thousands of dollars he had lined in his own pockets so far.  
Mia shivered. She knew that Miller was scum, but that was even beyond her imagination of what he was capable of.

And when the fear slowly subsided, anger burned hot and demanding. Did he really think she was so _dumb_ that she wouldn't recognize what he was doing? Or was he convinced that she was too weak, too shy to speak up?  
She had to be completely out of her mind, but with a confidence she couldn't tell where it came from, she copied each page and stuffed it in her bag.  
Sooner or later she had to tell the authorities about him. People like him couldn't just do whatever they wanted and think they'd get through with it. He had to feel the consequences of his actions.

It was ridiculously easy to smuggle the papers out day by day, Miller didn't even have a clue. By the end of the week Mia had collected all the important evidence for his crime and stored them in a cardboard box under her bed. She only had to wait for the right moment to strike back, maybe when she had a job prospect.  
He would be sorry for every time he had shouted at her.

  
Friday came eventually. Eyes glued to her watch, she waited like a cat on a hot tin roof, and when it was finally 7pm she made her way over the floor to Arthur’s apartment. The sign on the door said "Fleck", and she caught herself saying his name in her mind.  
_Arthur Fleck._

After she knocked gently, it didn’t take long until Arthur opened and greeted her with a shy smile.  
"Hello," he said softly, combing back his damp hair with one hand. He smelled like shampoo, she assumed that he had just stepped out of the shower.  
"Hello," Mia answered and stepped inside when he held the door open for her. The flat had the same floor plan as hers, and she quickly let her eyes roam over the antiquated furniture. Although everything seemed to be quite old, it was tidy and neat.  
Then she spotted Mrs. Fleck sitting on the couch.  
Arthur cleared his throat. "Uhm, Mom? This Mia, remember? I told you about her, she lives in the apartment three doors down." The old woman shifted in her seat, and Mia walked around to greet her.

"Good evening Mrs. Fleck, nice to meet you," she said, shaking her boney hand. She was just as thin as her son.  
Her warm eyes were friendly and a little clouded, and she looked at Mia as if she was a ghost. "Oh, it's a pleasure my dear! Happy told me about you, but I wouldn't believe it. I haven't seen anybody coming from your apartment in months," she said.  
_Happy_. What a cute nickname.

"Yeah, because you never get out of this place", Arthur muttered, leaning against the sink in the small kitchen.  
"He’s right," she said wryly. "I only go out to check the mail sometime. I’m expecting a letter from Thomas Wayne, you know. I used to work for him when I was younger."  
She lifted her chin, pride seeping from every pore, and Mia chuckled. "That’s great, Mrs. Fleck. I really hope he will reply to your letters soon."  
Arthur was watching her from his place in the kitchen, a cigarette in his mouth. She blushed under his intense gaze and tried to focus on his mother.

"He’d make a great mayor, everybody says so!" she claimed.  
Mia had to bite back a sarcastic comment. Wayne was just one of those aloof snobs, unaware of the troubles of normal people. Surely someone like him would never stoop to reply to a simple letter from an old lady that used to work for him so many years ago.  
Her son rolled his eyes and asked: "Oh yeah? Everybody, _who_? Who do you talk to?" His question had a little sharp edge to it, and Mrs. Fleck pursed her lips like a stubborn child.  
"Everybody on the news! He’s the only one who can save the city. He owes it to us," she said.  
He snorted, and Mia started to feel a little uncomfortable, as if she wasn’t supposed to watch a fight between mother and son. She could understand that it wasn’t easy to live together under one roof, especially under such a small one. That might be the reason the situation was so tensed between them.

Arthur walked out of the kitchen and said: "We’re going out tonight, but I made you something for dinner, Mom. Don’t forget to eat."  
The woman waved her hand and chirped: "Thank you, Happy. Now, have a nice evening you two!"  
"Thank you Mrs. Fleck," Mia said, and they went outside.

Maybe it was good for them both to get some time off, she thought.


	6. Mr. Cellophane

_A Human Being's Made Of More Than Air_   
_With All That Bulk, You're Bound To See Him There_   
_Unless That Human Bein' Next To You_   
_Is Unimpressive, Undistinguished_   
_You Know Who..._

_Cellophane_   
_Mister Cellophane_   
_Shoulda Been My Name_   
_Mister Cellophane_   
_'Cause You Can Look Right Through Me_   
_Walk Right By Me_   
_And Never Even Know I'm There._

_Barney Martin - Mr. Cellophane_

* * *

  
Arthur wondered if it had been a good idea to introduce Mia to his mother. It was no use in trying to pretend that he wasn’t living with her, but it was another thing to _actually_ have someone over.  
He wanted to make a good impression and vacuumed the flat, washed the dishes and tidied up the living room. The thought of Mia being here was unsettling yet exciting, and he had a hard time to distract himself for the rest of the day. When he went to the bathroom, he shaved his face thoroughly and washed his hair, putting on some of his better clothes.

He was beyond nervous when she finally knocked, but her smile made him forget his worries for a while.  
Mia didn’t seem to be bothered by his mother, she listened politely and gave him a smile now and then. But he noticed the way she fidgeted with her hands and chewed her lips, and how she blushed when she found him looking at her.  
An invisible weight seemed to lift off his shoulders when they finally left and had dinner at a little diner at the corner. It wasn’t anything special, just sandwiches and fries he hardly touched, but they had a great conversation as usual.

Arthur felt a little weird when they went to Mia’s place afterwards, unsure what she was expecting. They sat as far away from each other as her small couch allowed, and although she had switched on her TV he couldn’t focus on the movie for one minute. Her flat was different from his, with lighter colors and less old looking. They smoked and drank some wine, and for a split second he thought what it would feel like if he didn’t have to leave.  
But eventually they parted and he went back to his mother, the apartment seeming even more dull and uninviting than before.

Of course his mother was over the moon the next day, babbling something about his girlfriend and what not.  
Although he appreciated that she was happy for him, there was a bitter aftertaste to her words. She had only believed him _after_ he had given her the proof that Mia wasn’t just an imaginary friend.  
With that thought in mind he went to his social worker the next week, hoping he could get rid of some emotional ballast. But something about her was off, he felt it from the very beginning of their session.  
And it made him angry.

He tried to tell her about his current thoughts and feelings. "You know, I met this girl... she lives on my building, and we just met so it’s all really fresh, but I like her very much."  
The lady just looked at him with thin lips, locking her fingers in front of her.  
"Arthur, I need to talk to you," she said, her voice grave.  
He ignored her and went on: "Until a little while ago, it was like nobody ever saw me. Even I didn’t know if I really existed."  
But she didn’t show any interest in what he had to say. "Arthur, I have some bad news for you."

Suddenly, he slammed his flat hand on the table, and she startled.  
"You don’t _listen_, do you?" he shouted. "I don’t think you _ever_ really listened to me. You just ask the same questions every week: “How’s your job? Are you having any negative thoughts?” _All_ I have are negative thoughts! But you don’t listen. Anyway, I said, for my whole life, I didn’t know if I even really existed. But I do, and people are starting to notice."

After her initial shock, she seemed to be indifferent to his outburst. "They cut our funding," she stated. "They’re closing down our offices next week. The city’s cut funding across the board, social services is part of that. This is the last time we’ll be meeting."  
Arthur froze, a thousand thoughts buzzing through his mind. "Okay."  
Her eyes hardened when she watched his reaction. "They don’t give a shit about people like you, Arthur. And they really don’t give a shit about people like me either," she said flatly.

His leg was now bouncing uncontrollably and he gulped down the lump in his throat. This was bad.  
"What am I supposed to do about my medication now? Who do I talk to?" he asked, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.  
She sighed. "I’m sorry, Arthur."

When he went home that day, he felt as if the world was slowly falling apart. What was he going to do without his meds? They were the only thing that kept his fragile mental health at bay, and now he was afraid.  
Afraid that his nightmares would become worse, that he couldn’t hold back his laugh attacks, that he would lose his job - and that he would scare off Mia. She had accepted his state so far, but only because she didn’t know a lot about him. If she did, he was sure, she would have never agreed on meeting with him.

He told his mother that everything was fine and sat in the tub, turning on the water from the shower head, so she couldn’t hear him groan and cry. Pulling his hair and biting his wrists, he rocked back and forth, trying to find a way out of this misery. It was hopeless.  
He had to make the best of the situation, maybe he could ration the pills he still owned and find another doctor who could help him. There must be _somebody_ who could help him.

Until then he just had to play pretend, go to work and smile like everything was okay.  
Only it was not.

* * *

  
Having dinner with Arthur was a little awkward, since he had barely eaten any of his food. Mia filed that information for later, he seemed to be more comfortable with just something to drink and cigarettes.  
She was nervous when they went to her flat. Would he try to kiss her? But Arthur proved to be the perfect gentleman as usual. He kept his distance and didn’t try to touch her, and when he was gone she was almost a little disappointed.  
But that was silly, of course.

They had agreed to meet for coffee next Wednesday, and Mia was looking forward to it. She hoped that they would meet on a regular basis from now on, there were so many things she still wanted to know about him. He was kind of reluctant when she asked him personal questions, so she quickly learned to take it slow on that. It was fine for her, there was no rush since they still had many occasions to get to know each other.

On Tuesday she left the office earlier than usual, since Miller had a private appointment. As she sat in the subway thinking about Arthur, an absurd thought occurred to her: what if she went to Kenny's Music? Arthur had told her he was working there, right?  
_Maybe she could risk a quick little glance_… She giggled, suddenly feeling excited by the thought of doing something secret, something only she knew about. It wouldn’t do any harm.  
So she left on the next station and walked to Little Odessa. Making her way through the busy street, she looked around and tried to find the shop Arthur had talked about, ignoring the nauseating stench of garbage mixed with rancid oil from the food stalls.

And then she saw him.

He was fully dressed up, an unmistakable bunch of color in this dull and gray setting. On his head was a wig with bright green curls, and he had put on white, red and blue make up. He wasn't like one of those scary clowns, he looked like a ball of innocent happiness.  
Mia couldn't help but chuckle when she saw him dancing around, a goofy expression on his face, twirling a yellow sign that advertised a sellout. Although most people ignored him and passed by, he was smiling happily as if this was the best place in the world.  
It was _amazing_.

As she stood hidden behind a corner watching him, she saw a few teenagers circling him and frowned. It was obvious that they were making fun of him, their smirks nothing but spiteful. But Arthur played along, trying to cheer them up, until suddenly one of them grabbed his sign and ran away with it.  
_No!_

Something snapped inside her, and she tried to chase after them, but the street was crowded with people that slowed her down. Her heart was beating up her throat as she turned her head left and right to find them, a nasty feeling building up in her stomach. Panic unfolded its icy grip around her, there were just too many people, too many impressions, smells and sounds, that she felt petrified.  
But she needed to find him. She ran, further and further, until the air was burning in her lungs - _there_, in a dark alley was a spot of color between black garbage bags.  
She froze.  
He was on the ground, and the kids kicked at him before they ran away, the yellow sign shattered into pieces next to him.

_Arthur._  
Mia crossed the street without even looking, ignoring the angry honks and screeching tires, her eyes glued to the man lying on the ground. He was curled up, his hands covering his crotch and sides, his eyes firmly shut. Never minding the filthy paving, she knelt down beside him and cupped his face with shaking hands.  
"Arthur, can you hear me? Oh, Arthur, what have they done…" Blood seeped from his nose, mingling with the red greasepaint on his mouth. He coughed and whimpered as he did so, breathing heavily.  
_Oh God, please don't let his ribs be broken._  
She crawled over to place his head in her lap, carefully lifting his wig. His hair was damped with sweat, and she gently combed her finger through it, trying to soothe him. Then her head shot up and she looked nervously around, afraid that the traitors would come back.  
But nobody came. Nobody tried to help.

"Mia?" She winced when she heard him saying her name. He was blinking up at her, trying to focus his view. "What are you… doing here"? With a painful groan he sat up on his knees, holding his sides.  
"I wanted to see you," she sniffed. Was she crying?  
He looked at her as if he doubted that she was real. "I'm okay, I'm... it's just a scratch..."  
"No Arthur, it's not! You need to see a doctor! We need to call the police!" But he shook his head no and got up to his feet, dangerously swaying. Mia hurried to get up too and supported him, careful not to accidentally hurt him more than he already was.  
"I need to go back to work," he muttered, looking at the remnants of his sign.

He wouldn't go to a doctor, he probably couldn't even afford it. And the police… well, they would most likely don't even care about a beaten up citizen.  
There was no use in trying to convince him, so instead she said: "Okay, then... let's get home, alright? I'll go tell your boss, so don't worry about it. Just stay here and wait for me, I'll be right back!"

Before he could protest, she wiped away her tears, picked up a few larger pieces of the sign and went to the shop looking for its owner.  
It was a ragged up place, and the guy who owned it just matched it. He was standing behind counter, a bunch of Dollar notes in his hand. When she approached him, he was looking at her with mild interest, his eyes lingering on her chest a little too long.

"Excuse me, Sir. Arthur- I mean, Mr. Fleck has been attacked, he needs to see a doctor," she said, handing him the shattered sign. His brows furrowed and he barked: "Who?"  
Mia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Arthur Fleck. The man who works as a promoter in front of your shop."  
Now the bell rung. "Ah, the clown. What about him?"  
She pinched her nose. Good Lord, what was wrong with him? "I said, he was attacked. Here, they broke his sign." She wiggled with one of the pieces in front of him.

A nasty shade of red colored his squishy face. "He broke my sign? He better pay for it, or I'll make him!"  
Without further thinking Mia smashed her fist on the countertop, and he flinched. "No! He was attacked by a gang and they broke it, he's hurt! He can't come back to work today, he needs to see a doctor, _now_!" She didn't even try to conceal her fury, and when the guy crossed his arms in front of his chest, she decided to play it dirty.

"Listen, I'm working for a lawyer, you see? If you make a fuss about this I'll make sure you'll regret it, understand?" He now viewed her with unconcealed anger, but she saw his left eye twitch a little - he believed her.  
"And I need his things." She supposed he wasn't going to work in his clown costume, and the guy reluctantly reached behind him to throw a cheap plastic bag at her.  
"Get outta my store, stupid bitch," he spat, and she turned on her heels, running back to Arthur.


	7. Smile

_Smile though your heart is aching_   
_Smile even though it's breaking_   
_When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by_   
_If you smile through your fear and sorrow_   
_Smile and maybe tomorrow_   
_You'll see the sun come shining through for you_

_Light up your face with gladness_   
_Hide every trace of sadness_   
_Although a tear may be ever so near_   
_That's the time you must keep on trying_   
_Smile, what's the use of crying?_   
_You'll find that life is still worthwhile_   
_If you just smile_

_Charlie Chaplin - Smile_

* * *

Everything hurt.  
His vision had turned white with pain, and he heard a high-pitched sound ringing in his ears. When he swallowed, he could taste something metallic in his mouth, and as soon as Mia was out of his sight he threw up, supporting his weight against the brick wall next to him. It only made his headache worse.  
After he had emptied his stomach, he gingerly touched the sensitive spots on his ribs, hissing when they sent a new jolt of lightning pain through his system.

Arthur had stopped counting how many times he had been beaten up in his life. Some of those encounters had left visible marks, like the scar on his lip, while others were not so easily seen.  
But then again, there was a featherly light, soft warmth between all the hot, glaring ache.  
He didn't think she had been real, maybe he had hallucinated her, until she returned with a grim expression on her face that quickly turned alarmed once she saw him.  
"What did he say?" he managed to ask, picking up his wig.  
"It's okay, you can leave. He won't make any trouble, I promise."  
What a weird answer that was. But he nodded, partly feeling relieved that he could go somewhere to lick his wounds.  
"Come," she said and was at his side, "I got your things, we can go home now."

She wanted to call a cab for him, but he refused. Driving back would be ridiculously expensive, and he didn't want to cause any more fuss. They took the subway, and he was highly aware how the people around them stared, but he was indifferent to it.  
The worst thing was climbing the stairs that lead to their street, and he rather crawled than walked them. Finally they had made it to the building, and the goddamn elevator was working for once.  
When they got out, he sensed her hesitation and looked at her. She wanted to say something. He watched her wetting her lips with her tongue before she spoke.

"Will you tell your mother?"  
He huffed: "I can hardly hide anything from her." His mother would be out of her mind with worry, no doubt.  
Mia nodded quietly, then asked: "Why don't you come over and I help you? I'm not a doctor, but I think somebody should look at your injuries, Arthur."  
Was she serious? He didn't want her pity though, but all he could read in her open face was concern. And... hope? Why, it would be nice to have someone who took care of _him_ for a change.

While he was still weighing his options, she slowly reached her hand out for him to take, a small smile playing around her lips. That was all conviction he needed, and he sheepishly took it, letting her lead the way.  
Once inside, she gave him the bag with his clothes and showed him the bathroom, suggesting for him to clean up first. He tried not to make a mess and carefully stripped his dirty costume before he stuffed it in the bag and used some toilet paper to scrape off most of his make up. The warm water was pleasant on his skin, and he felt a little strange using Mia's shampoo. But it smelled liker her, and he savored the clean, fresh scent that washed all the filth away. He made sure to dry everything up after he had dried himself. It was difficult to bend on his waist to pull on his pants, since his upper body hurt like hell and his left leg was slightly limping.

He could already see bruises blooming blue and purple on his skin, and he put on his button down shirt without closing it.  
Stepping out into the small living room, Mia was already waiting for him on the couch. She had changed, and he felt even worse for ruining her clothes. There was an assortment of first-aid-materials sprawled on the table, and she gestured next to her for him to sit.  
Arthur wasn't sure what she aimed to achieve with all that stuff since there weren't any open wounds to attend, but he sunk into the soft cushions with a sigh.

"I made some coffee," she offered, and he gratefully accepted the hot liquid.  
They didn't talk for a few minutes and just sipped on their cups, and he suddenly felt really, really tired. He could sleep, right here and now, where it was warm and safe. But she shuffled next to him and said: "Can I take a look? Just to make sure."  
He nodded quietly and pulled down his shirt a little, so she could inspect his torso. Her shaky exhale made the skin on his back tingle, and he almost flinched when he felt her carefully touching the swelling bruise on his shoulder.  
"Sorry," she muttered, but he shook his head and said: "It's okay."

His exhaustion and the headache made him dizzy, he was less cautious and tensed as he would have been under different circumstances. And a part of him wanted her to touch him, to nurse him.  
"I have an ointment that numbs the pain a little, is it okay if I apply something on your back?" she asked, and he nodded again.  
He closed his eyes and relished the patterns her fingers painted on his skin, gently rubbing the maltreated flesh. It felt so good that he didn't want her to stop anytime soon, but when she cleared her throat he woke from his trance and looked at her with heavy lidded eyes.  
Mia plucked at his sleeve and said: "Your shirt, could you, uhm..."

Suddenly, his heart rate was rising and he clenched his jaw.  
He wasn't a pretty sight, he knew that. _Too skinny, too ugly, too different_.  
But she was so gentle with him, even if every breath hurt as if his ribcage would explode. Her small hands danced over a nasty contusion that stretched over his side, and his nostrils flared when he noticed the scent that was neither her shampoo nor the ointment. Just her.  
"There," she said, pulling the fabric of his shirt back in place.  
He uttered a husky "Thank you" and closed a few buttons, knowing that he had to leave now, or he would surely fall asleep on her couch. But then he stiffened.

"Why have you been there?" He needed to know. Mia avoided his gaze when she reluctantly answered: "I told you, I... just thought I'd come along, visit you at work."  
Arthur remembered the day he had followed her, unseen and secretly. Had she felt the same urge to see him again? Nobody had ever taken any interest in his work as a clown.  
"Too bad you couldn't see me in action," he said halfheartedly, and the corner of her mouth turned up.

"I bet you're good at it." He wanted so much to believe her. That she didn't just say it to cheer him up. That she meant it.  
"My name's Carnival," he suddenly blurted, and she blinked at him in surprise. "My clown name, I mean. It's Carnival."  
"Carnival," she repeated, and it sounded wonderful coming from her lips.  
Just like his name did. She said it often, and he loved how the syllables rolled from her tongue. Her smile deepened when she spoke. "I like it."

They got up and she opened the door for him, when he froze and turned around to face her, now highly awake.  
"Do we still have coffee tomorrow?" he asked, somehow thinking that the incident had changed everything.  
Her insecurity made him nervous, and she hesitantly said: "If you like? I mean, I understand if you want to be alone-"  
"No!" Her eyes went wide at the sudden volume of his voice and he added: "No, I don't mind."

And she smiled.

* * *

Mia cried when Arthur was gone.  
For him. For all those people who were nothing but a punching ball for others. For herself.  
He was so... fragile, yet she could sense something slumber inside him that wanted to be awakened. He hadn't done anything wrong, but still those kids had decided to beat him up for nothing, just because they were frustrated and bored. The city made the people insane, and it was only a matter of time until they would revolt, it was already beginning.

She thought that it could easily have been her lying in the dirt, or any other person forgotten by the system. Feeling angry and sad, she cursed the goddamn mess they were living in.  
Wasn't there a way out?  
Touching him should have felt thrilling, but _Jesus_ \- those bruises must hurt like hell. The little spark inside her belly that had lit up when he came out of the bathroom was soon smothered by the true extent of his injuries. She just hoped they would heal soon.  
In a different time and space Mia would run away with Arthur and leave everything behind. Her crappy job, the shabby apartment, this forsaken city. They would have a fresh start somewhere nice, where nobody knew them.  
It was a nice dream, and she allowed herself to think about it for a little while.

When Mia had dried her tears, she felt restless and needed some distraction. She hadn't put anything useful on paper since she had moved to Gotham. Crumpled pages were dumped in the bin, the keys of her typewriter dusty.  
Creativity was hard to find these days, no muse lighting up her mind. How come that she always used to have so many ideas for new stories, more than she could write down? But life wasn't fair and reality weighed heavy, leaving little space for different thoughts.  
Was Arthur feeling as lonely as she did? Unconsciously her hand wandered over the keyboard, pressing down slowly.

_Carnival_. She smiled. What a wonderful name for a clown.  
It was easy to imagine how he would cheer up the kids, his movements exaggerated in his oversized shoes, the green curls of his wig bouncing happily. How he would manage to make even the simplest tasks funny with his clumsy behavior, the drawn on eyebrows flying up with surprise. They would hold their bellies when he was trying to inflate a balloon, and the wretched thing would escape his grip with a loud farting noise.

_Carnival the Clown_. Wouldn't that be a nice story for children?  
The words came one by one, just floating out of her fingers. It felt good to write something different than contracts or payment reminders, and before Mia could wrap her thoughts around it, she was all lost in writing until the last page was finished.  
Maybe one day she could publish this one, she thought.

As arranged, they met at the café the next day, and Mia had to suppress her concern when she saw him limping.  
"How are you?" she asked, knowing that it was a rather stupid question, but she was serious.  
Arthur shrugged and winced a little as he did, taking a sip of coffee before he answered. "I'm okay. My boss at Ha-Ha's was easy about it, the guy from Kenny's called him and said I should take a few days off."  
She blushed and bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from wearing a smirk. So that asshole had taken her faked threat seriously. Good for him.

"That's good, Arthur. Really. I think you should rest and give your body some time to recover," she said, and he nodded.  
"They cut the fund for my social worker," he suddenly blurted, and Mia's head shot up at that. Where did that come from?  
Arthur immediately showed signs of embarrassement, he fidgeted with his hands again and dropped his gaze. "I... I used to see a social worker, you know. I had some - some problems, and they thought a therapy could help me."  
She blinked and watched him squirm in his seat. He shouldn't feel bad about it.

"I'm sorry about that. I used to see a psychologist too, a few years ago. But... well, it didn't help me the way I expected it, so I cancelled it."  
She had never told anybody about her appointments, perhaps because they were fruitless and exhausting. But she understood, that people sometimes needed somebody to talk to, and Arthur was in difficult circumstances.  
He sized her up as if she had just appeared in front of his eyes, and she smiled sheepishly. "Everybody needs help sometimes," she said and shrugged.  
The hesitant smile on his face was dazzling, and she felt her heart swell under his warm eyes. He had been anxious to tell her, she realized.  
"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... they gave me medications against the laughing, you know? So... if it gets worse you..."

Mia didn't care, she reached out over the table and took his hand. "It's okay, Arthur. I told you, I don't mind."  
And to her surprise he squeezed it gently. "Would you like to go to the movies with me on Friday?"  
The expression on his face was now more confident, and she hoped that this was going to be a real date.  
"That would be great."


	8. Shall We Dance?

_Shall we dance or keep on moping?_   
_Shall we dance and walk on air?_   
_Shall we give in to despair?_   
_Or shall we dance with never a care?_

_Life is short, we're growing older_   
_Don't you be an also-ran_   
_You better dance little lady_   
_Dance little man, dance whenever you can_

_Fred Astaire - Shall We Dance_

* * *

His mother didn't have a clue when he came home, another letter to Thomas Wayne was waiting on the table. He was glad that she decided to go to bed early so he had the couch to himself, almost immediately falling asleep when he reclined. Sleep came seldom, and it was only proof to his devastated condition.

Of course he went to work the next day, and his body felt as if it had been crushed between two bulldozers. Hoyt Vaughn, the owner of Ha-Ha’s, summoned him to his office as soon as he arrived.  
Arthur didn’t like him that much, he was just one of those people who thought they were showing charity to their employees, only to take it as an axcuse to exploit them. So he was nervous when he stood in front of him, wondering if the guy from Kenny’s had been complaining about his absence.

"Arthur!" Hoyt cheered as if they were the best buddies. "Come in, how are you?"  
"Hey Hoyt," Arthur said. "I got jumped, didn’t you hear?"  
With his legs crossed on his desk he watched Arthur bemused and lit a cigarette. "Yeah, yeah, they beat you up for a fucking sign. I tell you, this city’s getting crazier every day!"  
Arthur just nodded, growing more and more uncomfortable.

"I’m really sorry for that, pal. Why don’t you take a few days off and see a doctor or something? Sounds good?"  
He blinked, unsure if that meant he was fired now.  
"Look, I like you, Arthur. You know, a lot of the guys, they think you’re a freak, but I like you," Hoyt drawled, and Arthur wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel better now.  
"That’s why I got you a nice little engagement at a hospital next week, child cancer and all that. It’s a really good opportunity, you see? But you can’t mess this up, right? I can’t use another complaint."  
He threw some papers in his direction, and Arthur took them startled.

"Uh... thanks, I mean... that’s great Hoyt, thanks a lot. I won’t mess it up, I promise."  
But his boss was already bored and gave him a dismissive wave of his hand. "Sure, now get out of my office and shut the door, will ya?"  
Arthur left and stared at the contract in his hands. That was... unexpected. Before he could take his things and leave, Randall stood in his way, big and unfriendly as ever.

"Hey buddy. I heard they thrashed you at Kenny’s?" His breath smelled like beer.  
"Yeah... just some kids, you know. But it's not that bad, I'll be fine soon," Arthur said and tried to pass him. But Randall shot out his large hand and stopped him, a dangerous smirk on his face.  
"Easy, now. You're my boy, ain't ya? You need something to defend yourself with." He lifted his other hand and held up a small bag that he offered to him.  
"What's that?" Arthur asked, but he had a bad feeling that he wouldn't like the answer.

Randall grinned, showing his yellow teeth. He opened the bag slightly, and Arthur could see the black barrel of a gun.  
He cringed and laughed awkwardly. "Randall... you can't give a gun to me," he said.  
The other man didn't move and shoved the bag towards him. "It's okay if you can't pay me now, just give me the money when you have it," he insisted, but Arthur clenched his jaw and looked up to him.  
"No, I mean it. I don't need that, thank you."

He stared down at him for another second, his grin now wolfish, but eventually he let him pass.  
_That was weird_, Arthur thought and made his way home as quick as he could. He knew that Randall was unpredictable, but this? Carrying a gun and trying to sell it? That was even beyond his imagination, and he hoped that he would leave him be.

He had some coffee with Mia later that day, and decided that it was time to tell her about his mental health issues, at least a bit.  
She had been there. For him. She deserved to know who she was dealing with, even if he risked losing her as a friend. To his surprise she was understanding as ever, and he felt relieved that she took it with so much empathy.  
Her positive demeanor made him bold, and he asked her to watch another movie with him. She said yes, again.

On Friday he felt better, even he was still a little stiff. They went to the old cinema, watching "Shall We Dance" with Rogers and Astaire. They were his favorite movie couple, and Mia seemed to enjoy it too.  
When they left after the show, they talked about the actors and how well they performed together.  
"I really love that dancing scene," she sighed, a dreamy smile playing on her face.

Arthur watched her with bliss, and before he could rethink his words he asked: "Do you like dancing?"  
When she turned her head to look at him, he felt his stomach doing a somersault, her eyes sparkling with glee.  
"Sure! You wanna dance with me?" They had stopped walking, and Arthur dropped his gaze, suddenly shy. Well, that was not what he meant.

"There's no music…" he mumbled, half hoping she would leave it be. But the other half of him had the strange desire to just dance with her, right _here_ and right _now_.  
When she didn't respond, he risked glancing up at her, watching her biting her lip as if she was unsure what to do. Suddenly, she blushed and reached out to take his hand.  
"It doesn't matter, we'll make our own music," she said softly, and then she started singing.

"_Shall we dance? On a bright cloud of music, shall we fly?_" Of course he knew that song from The King and I. He brought his other hand to her waist, careful not to touch her too low, and she lifted her arm to lay on his shoulder.  
"_Shall we dance? Shall we then say good night and mean goodbye_?" Her voice was soft and a little off tune, and she sung it slower than the original song. Following an impulse, he slowly started to move his feet, and they clumsily twirled around.  
She laughed. A light, honest laughter, that made his chest feel warm and comfortable.

"_Or per chance, when the last little star has left the sky_," he rasped, a little embarrassed by his voice. But Mia didn't seem to notice or care, she let go of his arm and turned around herself before she was back in his embrace.  
"_Shall we still be together with our arms around each other, and shall you be my new r-romance_?" He almost missed the little stutter at the end, too much occupied with her body in his arms. But she still smiled and went on to the last phrase of the song.  
"_On the clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen_-" Arthur joined in, and together they sang: "_Shall we dance, shall we dance, shall we dance_?"

They both lost it that, cracking up into childish laughter. Somehow they had stopped dancing and just stood silently, looking at each other. Arthur gulped down the lump in his throat, mesmerized by the bright green of her eyes behind her lashes. She was so close to him, he could feel her body warmth radiating through her clothes, filling him up until he felt sweat building up on his upper lip.  
"You're a good dancer," she said sheepishly, the pink of her cheeks making her glow under the dim light of the streetlamps.

She had to crane her neck to look up to him. He just had to slightly tilt his neck to kiss her, and for a rash little moment he thought of doing it. But instead he curled his lips into a smirk and said: "You too."  
They pulled away, and he didn't know what happened, but somehow their arms got tangled and they ended up walking hand in hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Although they didn't talk for the rest of the way, it didn't feel awkward or strange, only tense in a good way. The stairs to their street felt less steep, and for maybe the first time since he was living here he wished they would lead on forever.

When they stepped into the elevator, he glanced at her and found her still smiling up at him. It was _exhilarating_.  
"Would you like to come over for a coffee?" she asked, blushing a little.  
He gulped. Something had changed between them, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Sure, why not."

* * *

Tonight had been extraordinarily nice so far. When they danced on the street like silly school kids, Mia felt butterflies in her stomach.  
And they even held hands on the way back!  
It felt thrilling to be so close to Arthur, and she didn't want the night to end just yet. So she asked him to come inside and busied herself with making coffee for them. He stood in the living room, a little undecided what to do.  
"I just need to use the bathroom, make yourself at home," she said, and gestured towards the couch. He nodded, and she went to wash her hands and check her looks in the mirror. God, she was acting like a smitten teenager.

Mia didn't like using a lot of make up, a little powder and sometimes mascara was all she could put up with. Tonight was no exception. She sighed when she looked at her unruly curls that seemed to lead their own life.  
But then again, she wanted Arthur to like her the way she was, no use in trying to pretend she could be anybody else. She had tried that before, and was never happy with it. When they met she always wore her favorite jeans and a comfy jumper or shirt, relieved to put her business suit away in her free time. Arthur didn't seem to be bothered by her looks.  
So she just shrugged at her own reflection and made her way to the living room.

When she came back, she found Arthur standing at her desk, reading some papers.  
She froze.  
Clenching her hands into fists, she felt fear and embarrassment creeping up her spine. He was reading _Carnival the Clown_, the story she had written after his incident.  
_Shit_, she had forgotten to put it away and now he had found it.  
Now the inevitable would happen, she had experienced it many times before. Arthur lifted his gaze and looked at her, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly opened.

"Did you write that?" he asked, and Mia wanted to vanish on the spot. Surely he would think that she wanted to make fun of him. Or that she was obsessed, a _freak_. How could she explain this without exposing herself?  
"Arthur, it's not - I didn't-"  
"It's wonderful," he said.  
Mia blinked. "_Excuse me_?"

"I haven't read all of it yet, but so far it's a great story. I like that you gave him my clown name," he said, looking fondly at the pages in his hand.  
"Would you borrow it to me, so I can- Mia?" His voice was alarmed, but it was only a faint sound in her ears. "Mia, are you alright?"  
She wasn't able to hold back the tears that sat at the corners of her eyes, and instead of an answer she could only utter a sob. Maybe it was because she had been highly strung all night, thinking too much about everything and doubting herself all the time.

Arthur put down the story and was at her side in no time, lifting his hands but not touching her, unure whether was allowed to or not.  
"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong? I shouldn't have read it without your permission, I'm so sorry." The concerned frown on his made her laugh, and he finally decided to cup her cheeks as if she could break apart at any moment.  
"No, that's okay, I just - nobody has ever said that to me before, and I thought you - I was afraid you're going to hate me for that," she stuttered between her sobs and her hiccuped chuckles.  
_How ridiculous_.  
But he wiped away the tears with his thumbs, and crouched to be at the same level with her.  
"Why in the world should I hate you?" he asked softly. His eyes were so _blue_.

She shrugged, suddenly feeling bashful and self-conscious. "You inspired me," she managed to say.  
His frown vanished, making way for a tender, affectionate expression. "That's the most beautiful thing anybody has ever done for me."  
Mia swallowed and sniffed, the tears had run dry magically. Arthur was so close that she could see his beard stubble.  
And before her nervousness would get the best of her, she leaned forward, closed her eyes and kissed him.

He was stiff at first, evidently surprised by her sudden boldness. But after a mere second he responded, and Mia felt so much at once: the touch of his big, warm hands on her cheeks, the broad firmness of his chest beneath her fingers, his breath on her face, the taste of cigarettes and coffee, the smell of bitter smoke, sweet shampoo and the tang of fresh sweat.  
And his lips all soft on hers.  
She had imagined this moment so often, that it overwhelmed her now that it finally was there. Her hands sneaked up to wrap around his neck, and she stood on her tiptoes to meet him half way. But the angle of their heads was wrong now, so he gently tilted her face to gain better access to her mouth.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that he must've watched those old movies so many times, so he knew exactly how to give such a romantic, toe-curling kiss to a woman. He was so gentle, he didn't try to use his tongue or do anything but just kissing her, softly nibbling on her lower lip. Mia was dizzy and light-headed, a small approving hum escaping her throat.  
Way too soon he pulled away a little, and her eyes fluttered open. His heavy lidded gaze made her stomach doing a somersault, and she smiled like an infatuated fool.

She didn't care. Life was good again.


	9. Singin' In The Rain

_I'm singin' in the rain_   
_Yes, singin' in the rain_   
_What a glorious feeling_   
_I'm happy again_   
  
_I'm laughin' at clouds_   
_So dark up above_   
_The sun's in my heart_   
_And I'm ready for love_

_I walk down the lane_   
_With a happy refrain_   
_Just singin', singin' in the rain!_

_Gene Kelly - Singin' In The Rain_

* * *

Arthur felt as if his heart was overflowing, Mia's kiss still lingering on his lips.  
Was this real? He couldn't tell anymore. He only knew that this leaden, drowning weight had been lifted off his chest magically.  
Back in his flat his mother was already asleep, but he was far too excited to lay down yet. Putting on one of his old records, he danced in the living room by himself, imagining Mia in his arms. He chuckled and stretched his arms above his head, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

There had only been a few occasions on which he had kissed a woman in his life, and it had never felt anything like now. He only vaguely remembered his fumbling attempts with a girl from his school, an outsider just as he was, craving for a little attention. And then this patient in Arkham who had forced herself on him, fast and greasy.  
But those could not compare to Mia.

She brightened his days and his mood, and he dared to think that he was kind of happy. But he knew that happiness was a fragile thing, that expectations could be so easily shattered... yet joy floated his veins every time he saw her, every time he thought of her.  
Mia was so full of contradictions to him: at times she seemed to be vulnerable, shy and anxious - but then again she was understanding, playful and sometimes even a little resolute. Arthur sensed that there were things she kept hidden under the surface, but so did he. He wished that she could trust him one day, so he could learn about her past and her troubles.

He slept well that night.

It was Saturday afternoon, and Arthur was just cleaning the flat when suddenly the phone rung. The sound startled him - phone calls were unusual, especially during the weekend. With a slight frown on his face he went to the kitchen and picked it up, his voice a little wary.  
"Hello?"  
There was a crackling sound, and then a male voice spoke: "Hello, this is Chuck from Pogo’s Comedy Club, am I speaking to Arthur Fleck?"  
He tensed. "Yes, it’s me."  
"Oh, good! Well we recieved your application and want you as an act in our club." Arthur couldn’t speak, the hand holding the phone was shaking.  
"Hello?"  
He cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah uhm, sorry. I mean, this is - uh, when?"  
"Well how about next Saturday?" the guy asked, and Arthur felt a rush of excitement running through him.  
"Sounds great," he managed to say, barely holding back his nervousness.  
"Okay, I’ll schedule you for 8pm then. Please show up about an hour before so we can talk about the details, alright?"  
"Yeah, sure. Thank you."

When he hung up, his tension led to a bone shaking laughter attack that made him slump to the floor. His mother was worried sick when he almost threw up, but it was just a little too much for him to process.  
Soon the episode was over and Arthur shared the good news with Penny. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but he didn’t care. Relief pooled warm and reassuring in his belly, and he had to light a cigarette to calm his nerves. He felt the sudden urge to run over to Mia’s place and tell her, but he quickly got a hold on himself. There was enough time to tell her, he didn’t want to impose on her.

_Finally_. He was only one step away from his career as a professional comedian, he could feel it. This was his great chance, and he would grasp it with both hands.

He didn't question how his life had suddenly turned out to be so good, but it sure had all started with her. And on top of that he now had an engagement at the children's hospital on Tuesday.  
He was looking forward to it, taking extra care of his make up and straightening his costume to make a good impression. Taking his time to prepare some extra tricks, he even ignored the Randall and his bickering, nothing could rain on his parade today.  
When he arrived at the hospital, he asked for a doctor's coat stethoscope, and the friendly nurses provided him with both. The show went extraordinary well, he pretended to be a doctor and did some silly stunts that made the children laugh from the very beginning. He was giving them colorful balloons and flowers, juggled with balls and danced to happy songs they could sing along with. They applauded him and cheered when he was done, and he bowed deeply to each of them. Even the nurses gave him a tip for his good job, and he left with a warm and sparkling feeling in his guts.

Although he had been moving around all the time, he still felt too excited to go to the subway yet. It was already getting dark outside, and he decided to walk back home. He hadn't bothered to clean his face, only taken off his wig, and the few people he met were staring at him bewilderedly.  
_Let them stare_, he thought.

He hadn't noticed the rain at first, a cigarette between his fingers, but when the drops started falling heavier, he stopped in his tracks. Craning his head back, he savored the feeling of water on his heated face, laughter gurgling up from his throat.  
What was that song again, the one from Gene Kelly? Singin' in the rain!  
Arthur hummed the melody and started to dance, spinning himself around a street lamp, chuckling giddily. The feeling was intoxicating. He never wanted this night to end, wanted to ride on that wave of happiness as long as possible.

He had to see Mia.  
With flying steps he made it back home in no time, never minding to wait for the elevator, literally panting when he arrived at his floor. Knocking rapidly at the door, his whole body seemed to hum, like an electric wire about to snap. When she opened, all he could think about was the way her eyes were shining, how her skin was glowing with a blush, and he needed to know what her lips would taste like.  
  


* * *

After Arthur had left, Mia felt drunk and light-headed. The air between them had changed, she could sense it. Their awkward timidity nursed by the fear of being hurt had softened into something more than friendship. Some people might call it head over heels, but for maybe the first time in her life Mia wasn't afraid of being herself. Sure, there were still a lot of things they didn't know about each other, but they would get there. Together.  
Maybe it was unhealthy that she felt so attracted to him - he sure had his own problems and was struggling with his life. And so was she.

So Mia just allowed herself to be happy for the moment, to appreciate the thought of seeing Arthur again, to kiss him again.  
When she went to bed that night her skin was tingling, and the darkness spurred her memory. Her fingers traced the spots where his hands had cupped her face, where his lips were pressed on hers. She imagined how it would feel if they drifted lower, sending shivers down her spine.  
She really shouldn't do this, but hell, she was allowed to feel good just like everybody else. The thought quickly dissolved when she found the spots that made her back arch, she had been single for quite a while now.

Her breathing became ragged, and she could taste salty sweat on her upper lip when she rocked into her touch, thinking of Arthur. When she finally reached her peak, she felt exhausted, satiated and tired, a smile playing around her lips. Someday they would both be ready to share this with each other.

Miller was eyeing her suspiciously at work, evidently irritated by her good mood. That only led to more work for her, but screw him, she thought.  
Mia knew that Arthur had a special performance on Tuesday, so she didn't expect to see him before Wednesday.  
So the sudden knocking at her door startled her, and she gasped when he was standing in front of her in his costume, totally soaked with water. It had been raining all day, didn't he take the subway?  
But her questions were silenced by the look in his eyes.

His usually bright iris was almost completely hidden behind his dilated pupils. He lunged forward and pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing her tenderly.  
A muffled sigh escaped her, and she flung her arms around his neck. The moisture in his clothes seeped into hers, causing goosebumps on her bare forearms. She wanted to melt in his arms.  
When they finally pulled apart, he glanced at her with unconcealed satisfaction.

His eyes traveled down and he snorted. "Oops," he chuckled, brushing her lower lip with his thumb. She spotted the smeared make up around his mouth and laughed softly, never minding.  
"You had a good day?" she asked, loving the way his eyes were sparkling, the happy wrinkles around them imprinted in the white greasepaint.  
He nodded, little droplets of water falling from the curls around his ears.

"And Pogo's finally called, I have a show on Saturday." Even if he had tried to, he just couldn't conceal how proud he was of himself.  
Her eyebrows shot up and he squeezed his arms enthusiastically. "Really? Oh, Arthur! I'm so happy for you, that's a great opportunity!"  
"Thanks," he mumbled, blushing a little at her praise.

He leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. "Now my day's perfect." His husky voice made her dizzy, and she stood on her toes to kiss him again. A low sound emanated from his throat, and she felt her grip on his collar tightening. Whatever had happened to him, she relished in the feeling of seeing him in such a good mood, it opened him up like a blooming flower. It was beautiful.  
And he had decided that he wanted to share this moment with her, of all people.

His kisses were ever so soft, and even though a part of her wished that he would deepen it, she felt that it was just the right tempo for them. When they finally broke apart, he said: "How about we go out on Friday?"  
She smirked. "Singin' in the Rain?"  
A mischievous smile lit up his face and he nodded.  
"Sure." He bent down and picked up his bag, giving her one final kiss before he turned around to leave. "Sweet dreams," he whispered, and damn her if that didn't make her knees go weak.

The next day the whole city was in revolt. Three Wayne Enterprises businessmen had been shot in the subway the night before, it was everywhere in the news.  
A chill crept up Mia's spine when she saw the shocking headlines: KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE. The culprit had been witnessed, he was dressed as a clown. She frowned. Why the hell would somebody disguise as a _clown_ and kill those Wall Street guys?  
The government was ranting, talking about a terrorist act, and the already demonstrating people on the street cheered. It was grotesque.

But her worries soon were replaced by the thought of meeting Arthur again. They went to the movies on Friday, and he told her about his performance at the hospital, the expression in his face so warm and careless she felt his excitement infect her easily.  
When they sat together at the cinema, she tried hard to focus on the movie, but she couldn't stop thinking about holding hands with Arthur. Would he mind?

She sneaked her arm down and brushed her fingers over his, giving him the chance to ignore it if he thought that it was just accidental. But she saw his head turn towards her from the corner of her eye, and when she dared to look at him, he took her had in his and entwined their fingers, dropping a little peck on the back of her hand. Was this how people in the movies felt like? He sure must feel her racing pulse, hell maybe he even could hear her heart beating like a drum. After a while he started to stroke her knuckled with his thumb, and it soothed her.

_She trusted him_, she thought with surprise.

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate the opinion of my readers, so if you like what you read please feel free to leave kudos and comments (:


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